


Fine Gear and a Taste of Home

by Deannie



Series: Many Happy Returns [5]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Planning JD's birthday party is not without its problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fine Gear and a Taste of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I _am_ aware that these are getting steadily longer. That wasn't my intention at the outset, I promise you. Unfortunately, Vin's brain has more to say than ever I thought it would, and Ezra keeps gumming up the works. Damn gambler.
> 
> Also, I realized I never set the timeline on this series, so here goes: _Whiskey_ takes place shortly before "Nemesis," _Romans_ obviously takes place right after "The Collector," _Timepieces_ takes place after "Inmate 78," _Friends_ takes place between "Inmate 78" and "The New Law," as does this one. I figure they should all have a few months breathing room between those two episodes, don't you?

Ezra left Four Corners on St. Stephen’s Day, three days after Christmas.

Christmas had been a nice affair, with five of the seven of them sitting down to a meal together. Josiah had disappeared somewheres—Nathan said he usually did this time of year, coming back much the worse for it. Nathan had been invited back to the Seminole village to spend his Christmas with Rain. Seemed the whole village celebrated as a kind of winter festival, since Eban and his folk still did Christmas, church or no church, and Nathan was more than welcome—and more than willing to join them.

With no kids, Christmas didn’t need no gifts, and nothing in a town as small as Four Corners was going to be open on Christmas, so they couldn’t plan to meet for a meal at the hotel or the restaurant. But the five that were left had figured they’d figure something out to celebrate the day.

That something came in the form of Nettie Wells, inviting them all to her place for supper, to be et precisely at noon. Well, actually the “wizened old crone” (Ezra’s words) told Vin that he and the rest of them would be right welcome, and allowed as they could bring along the “worthless swindler” (Nettie’s words), long as he could drag his “lazy ass” (Chris’s words) out of bed early enough to be there on time.

For all the good-natured name calling, the afternoon-long celebration was pleasant and friendly, with everyone genuinely enjoying each other’s company, even Ezra and Nettie—especially once Ezra spied the beat up piano off in the dark corner of Nettie’s front room and began to play.

After a few carols which proved who could sing at least a bit and who should be paid not to (all of ‘em but JD ended up in the first of those categories), the lot of them dropped into chairs at the table and sipped slowly at whiskey-laced coffees while JD and Casey tried hard not to be caught by each other making moon eyes.

The five of them’d stayed their welcome long enough by sundown, and they rode back to town and settled at the empty jail, enjoying more whiskey—this time, without the coffee.

Ezra’d been fidgeting for a while since they found their places around the room, and Vin was wondering at it. “I have something I’ve been meaning to discuss with the group,” the gambler finally said, with a seriousness that put Vin’s teeth to itching. “I regret that Mr. Sanchez and Mr. Jackson aren’t with us, but time is, regrettably, short in this matter.”

“You leaving us, Ezra?” Chris was blunt. Hell, Chris was always blunt. But this time Vin didn’t fault him—at least he’d asked the question Vin had on his mind.

“For a short period only,” Ezra assured him. Looked like he was more surprised at the concern he’d heard in the question than mad at the idea that they’d think he was running out on them. Again. And hell, but he was nervous. 

“Where you going?” JD wanted to know, sounding anxious and young. “When you gonna be back?” 

Those were fine questions, too, so Vin still stayed silent, even though all he wanted to do now was ask if Ezra was okay. Vin didn’t recall that there was much interesting about the top of the desk, but Ezra sure seemed to think so—it was all he could look at. 

“Mother has written to ask me to accompany her from San Antonio to Kansas City.” That explained it. And there was something in his voice that was different than the usual hurt love he had when he talked about Maude. An edge Vin didn’t like the sound of. “I’ll be leaving on the 28th to rendezvous with her.” 

Buck was annoyed, and maybe a little bit drunk, so of course he blew up. “Hell of a time to tell us, Ezra! You couldn’t have given us a little more warning?”

“How much trouble’s she in?” Vin asked softly. The rest of them looked at him in shock and he snorted. Why the hell were they all acting so surprised? They couldn’t see it in his face?

Ezra smiled that smile he used to hide behind, but it was more than a little rueful that night. “There is the matter of a large sum of money. And possibly a… difficulty… concerning our fellow lawmen south of the border.”

There was a reason Chris had floated to the top of their odd little group.  Knew when to give a man his head and what to tell him to make sure he came back. “You need anything, you wire us.” He drank down the last of his whiskey. “Hell, you wire us when you get to San Antone and again to Kansas City.” His face was expressionless as he spoke. “Don’t want to hear from someone else that some Mexican posse caught up to ya.”

Ezra looked up at Chris and then at the rest of them, who were just watching, ready to back him. It was like he hadn’t thought anybody’d worry about him. His little grin let ‘em know he was pleased as punch that they did, though. “I will inform you of my every move, Mr. Larabee.”

“Hell, I wouldn’t go that far, Ezra,” Chris said, smiling now. “I don’t want to know your every move when you’re _here_.”

“When’ll you be back?” JD wanted to know. Was funny how sad it was making the kid. Not like Ezra was leaving ‘em for good.

“I will endeavor to return by February 15,” Ezra told him, holding his eyes. “Sooner if possible.”

Right. Because hell, wouldn’t the lawmen’s lives come to a halt if Ezra Standish missed a birthday?

***

Buck was trying to drive JD crazy. Was kind of fun to watch actually. Like Buck, the kid’d had a ma who made him king for a day on his birthday, and he was sure Buck was planning some elaborate surprise party. He was bound and determined that it weren’t going to be something he didn’t want.

“Now no… you know… girls—or nothing.” Hell, could almost hear the blush rising on the kid’s face. He and Buck were in the saloon, having lunch, while Vin leaned against one of the posts outside, listening. Chris sat in a chair next to him, both of them nursing beers and watching the town.

“No girls?” Buck’s laugh was followed by a thump of a heavy hand on a back. “JD, I thought you said you wanted a _party_!”

“You know what I mean, Buck….”

Vin reckoned Buck did—figured he knew, too. The party they'd been planning with Ezra wasn't nothing big or elaborate, as Ezra'd say, but JD didn't need to know that right now. Was more fun for Buck that he didn't. Vin tuned the pair of brothers out and watched Chris look down toward the telegraph office for the tenth time today. He must have been keeping the same timetable in his head that Vin was, because today was fourteen days since Ezra had left, and he should’ve landed himself in San Antonio right about now.

He breathed a sigh of relief when Petey Markham came running up with a yellow slip in his hand. Chris was driving him crazy with his damn fidgeting.

Chris tipped the kid and read the telegram aloud. “Here safe STOP companion located STOP next city by Jan 18 STOP eps” 

Message was short on words and details, and Vin wondered whether Ezra’d paid for it, or if he was hacking a telegraph line again. Was a nifty skill—if Vin could’ve, he’d’ve learned it a long time ago. 

Either way, the wire worried Vin. Maude Standish made a hell of an impression when she’d come to visit—even allowing for all the business with Billy Travis at the time—but Vin’d noticed, once she left, that Ezra had been sort of dark and sad for a while. Bitter. He’d got to thinking that maybe half of what Maude had told them about Ezra was a lie and more than half of what Ezra had said while playacting to catch out the murderers wasn’t playacting at all. Seemed Maude weren’t too reliable, and Vin just wasn’t sure she had Ezra’s welfare at heart. 

It wouldn’t be too surprising if she took him down with her, and it was obvious that Ezra was trying to cover his ma’s back and his own by giving out as little information as possible. 

Chris kicked back in his chair for a minute before looking up at him. “You worried?” 

Vin shrugged. “He can take care of himself, I reckon.” 

“Reckon he’d ask for help if he couldn’t?” 

“Nope.” 

Chris stood up, dusting himself off some and looking toward the jail. “Damn well better let us know if we gotta come bail him out,” he growled as he stepped off the boardwalk and headed across the street. 

Vin watched him go. “Ain’t sure he’d think we’d come,” he finally muttered. That was the problem with never having anyone to trust in your whole life. You weren’t sure what to do once you found someone to watch your back. 

***

“Shame all the damage they done,” Buck said sadly a week later. “Was planning on having the party there.”

Vin watched him rotate his shoulder, worrying at the bruise the falling ceiling had caused him. A group of cowhands had rolled into town the day before, headed back north from a drive to Mexico. They had money to burn, and they did. Damn near burned down Digger Dan’s too, while they was at it.

The lawmen had been kept hopping all night, and the following evening found them all tired and ready for the town to get back to normal. They could have used Ezra last night, if only for his willingness to wade into a brawl.

“Come on, Buck, you were not!” JD seemed downright disturbed by the idea, and Vin didn’t help him much by just shrugging when the kid turned questioning eyes on him. Josiah did the same—just because, it looked like. He didn't know nothing about the party. “You’re all full of horse—“

“Telegram from Mr. Standish,” Petey broke in, running up and holding the yellow slip. He made to give it to Chris, who quickly hooked a thumb toward Buck.

“What, you too lazy to read it yourself?” Buck asked him, taking the paper and handing the kid a bit.

Chris shrugged as Petey ran off. “Didn’t have a tip for him.”

“Kansas City lovely STOP,” Buck began, a smile in his voice to match that on his face.  “Games of chance quite lucrative STOP Mother to be moving on tomorrow STOP Home via APRR Feb 12 STOP eps”

“What’s ‘lucrative’ mean?” At least JD asked the question before Vin had to.

“Means he’s fleecing a lot of people out of their savings,” Nathan returned. He had that sound to his voice—half annoyance at the profession he found so shameful, half pride in the fact that his friend done it so well. “Hope he don’t get stuck in the pass,” he fretted. “Atlantic Pacific ain’t no railroad to take this time of year.”

“Cheaper in the winter, though,” Josiah pointed out, though Vin could see that he was wondering why Ezra would take a mountain route in the dead of winter instead of going south to the Southern Pacific line and skirting the edge of Mexico. Would be a safer bet. Faster, too—but then he’d have to go back through San Antonio to get on it.

“Might’ve left San Antone kind of quick, too,” he offered, remembering that choppy first telegram. “Might not be so keen to go back through there.”

“Least he’ll be clear of Maude soon,” Chris said quietly. He hadn’t liked Ezra’s ma from the first. Saw something in her it took the rest of them a bit of time to realize. Hell, looking at Josiah and Nathan, both of whose eyes narrowed at the comment, Vin guessed maybe some of them hadn’t figured it out yet.

“He’s a good son to help his mother in her hour of need,” Josiah said, proving Vin’s point.

“He’s a sucker when it comes to his ma,” Vin put in, standing and heading for the door to relieve Don Heller, who’d offered to watch the prisoners so he could get something to eat. “That’s for damn sure.”

***

Another week, another set of “miscreants” locked up in the jail.

Jeb Parker and Mordecai Withers had tried to fleece a couple of the local businessmen, selling the rights to a “rich local mine”—a hole in the ground north of the Brookings farm. The locals had seen through the shoddy job and JD had come to arrest the pair almost before they’d finished their piece. Vin figured Ezra would’ve loved taking them down himself. The man hated a conman who couldn’t do the job right. 

Speaking of their resident gambler, Vin hadn’t really expected Ezra to let them know about his return trip, though he’d kind of hoped he would. But Chris had only asked him to wire on the two legs out, when it was likely he'd get caught up in his ma's troubles, and Vin wasn’t sure Ezra’d realize they’d worry about him on his way home. 

So it was a surprise when Petey walked up to him outside the jail and handed Vin a telegram slip five days later. “For Mr. Larabee,” the youngster told him, taking his job serious. “From Mr. Standish.”

Vin tipped the boy, looked at the gibberish on the yellow sheet, and walked into the jail, hoping it wasn’t bad news.

“ ’Telegram from Mr. Standish’,” he repeated cheekily, dropping the piece of paper on the desk in front of Chris and walking back toward the cells, glowering at the prisoners so that Chris wouldn’t notice he hadn’t read it before handing it off. The crop of cowhands was gone, fines paid and time served, so Parker and Withers had the place all to themselves.

“Ezra okay?” Vin asked, looking back to see Chris settle deeper into the chair.

“Reached Dallas. Annoying cuss.” Chris lifted the telegram and read aloud: “Arrived Dallas safely STOP Will depart tomorrow morning STOP time for a game of chance or two STOP—“ Chris grinned his irritation and amusement as he read the rest— “Will of course keep you informed STOP eps.”

Vin snorted. “That’s Ezra for you.”

“Running a little early. Reckon he’ll make it home by the 10th at this rate,” Chris said. “Be good to have him back,” he added.

He didn’t notice he’d said, it, Vin was sure. Chris had let the gambler get under his skin more than he wanted to say, and Vin was glad of it. Ezra weren’t nearly the bad element he liked to play at being.

Of course, neither was Chris.

“Yeah,” Vin agreed, glaring at the prisoners just to see them jump. “’Bout time we had a _real_ conman back in town.”

“Buck!” JD’s outrage carried clearly down the boardwalk, and Vin smiled. Kid was gonna rip a hole in his stomach worrying before his birthday ever got here. “You can’t just up and invite her like that! Why would I want Casey there, anyway?”

“I don’t know, Vin,” Chris said with a smirk all his own. “Seems like Buck’s trying to fill the hole himself, for now.”

***

Surprisingly, snow fell at the end of January. Four Corners rarely got snow, and the novelty of it had children and adults alike enjoying the brisk days and snowball fights, even if the snowballs were more wet dirt than anything else.

Snow fell elsewhere too, of course, and the telegraph lines were full of reports of stranded stagecoaches and delayed trains up north.

The dusting of snow had melted clean away by the 3rd of February, when Vin, Josiah, Nathan, and Buck were playing penny-ante poker in the saloon.

“You ever gonna give that boy a break, Buck?” Nathan asked. JD was still working himself into a lather as his birthday approached, and Buck was doing nothing to make it easier for the poor kid. Yesterday, he’d paid Mrs. Potter’s son to let slip that there might’ve been an order put in for lace tablecloths for “a very special party in a couple of weeks.”

JD jumping up and down demanding to know whether Buck was trying to ruin his birthday entirely was kind of entertaining to watch.

“In twelve days, yes sir,” Buck answered, as Josiah dealt out the next hand. A bitter wind blew in the winter door of the saloon with another customer, causing them all a shiver.

“Bet Ezra’s rethinking his choice of transportation now, huh?” Nathan muttered, grimacing at his cards. Vin knew that particular grimace meant one of two things: a hand worth bluffing, or a truly winning hand. He prided himself on reading “tells” just as well as Ezra did, in his own way. Vin figured to bet light and hope for an eight at the second draw to give him a king-high full house.

“Sure hope he gets back for JD’s party, though,” Buck said. “Like I’m gonna know what to do with half-froze clams.” He grimaced as well, and predictably dumped his cards face down into the kitty. “Damnit, I fold.”

“Figure he’d let us know if he’s gonna be late,” Vin allowed. He really thought it was true, too. Ezra’d been caught but good by the six of them, whether he knew it or not—that telegram from Dallas had proved it. He’d let them know because he was finally figuring out that they’d _want_ to know.

Vin was about to place his bet when Mary Travis walked in, waiting for her eyes to adjust before she looked around and made her way to their table. She looked troubled.

 “Excuse me, but have you seen Mr. Larabee?” Mrs. Travis asked them all, nervously. She liked the rest of them all right, she just wasn’t quite comfortable with them, and she was clearly hoping she could give her information to Chris instead.

“Out at Peterson’s,” Buck replied, catching her worried tone and not liking it one bit. “Trying to keep him and Avery from starting another land war. Something we need to know about?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she hedged. “You see, I heard from Mr. Perkins that Mr. Standish was planning to return home this week via the northern rail routes.”

“And?” Josiah sat forward, his hands worrying his cards.

Lord, couldn’t the woman just spit it out?

“There was a derailment on the main Atlantic-Pacific line this morning, just outside of San Miguel,” she finally said. “Two trains, both westbound. They aren’t sure yet, but there appear to be a large number of casualties.”

Buck, of course, immediately saw the less depressing side of things. Was also the logical side of things in this instance. That weren’t always the case. “Just ‘cause Ezra was riding a train, don’t mean it was one of _those_ trains.”

Mary bristled at his tone. “Well, of course not,” she bit back. Still, she’d clearly been thinking the worst. “I have inquiries out with the local press there—and the sheriff in San Miguel is a friend of the judge…” She looked to Vin, and he read the regret in her eyes. Kind of pissed him off some. Seemed stupid to give up on someone when you had no idea if they was anywhere near the danger. “I just thought Mr. Larabee should know,” she finished lamely. Must’ve seen the anger in Vin’s eyes, ‘cause she sure beat a hasty retreat.

They sat in silence for a long minute before Nathan shook it off.

“Every bad thing happening don’t always happen to us,” he said defiantly.

That was true. Even though the timing was right for Ezra to be passing through that way right about now. Even though he did seem to just attract trouble like a sponge did water….

“If it slows him down, he’s gonna be right pissed to miss JD’s birthday,” Buck said. He obviously believed it was nothing more than an unrelated tragedy, and his easy dismissal of the matter should have put Vin right at ease….

But Buck’d thought that about Jericho, too.

***

In all, about 140 people died in the accident. Ezra’s name didn’t appear on either train’s passenger list, which was a comfort. But the days wore on, and they still didn’t hear word, which got them all worrying.

“Derailment would’ve messed up the whole system, JD,” Buck said patiently, when JD mentioned, for the third time, that it was now February 12 and Ezra should’ve been home by the 10th. “He’s only two days late—and that's just by Chris's timetable. His last telegram said today, and that was before the whole crash." Buck was clearly making himself worry now and tried to pull back. "Hell, he probably hopped a stage somewheres and is getting home that way.”

“So why don’t he let us know?” JD asked.

Vin was asking that question, too. He really thought Ezra would send them word when he heard of the derailment. At least he should’ve sent them word when he was delayed. But the damn gambler never sent them a peep, and Vin was starting to get a mite peeved.

“Where the hell are you, Ezra?” he muttered. “Ain’t no good worrying us like this.”

Chris looked over at him as he said it and threw back his whiskey angrily. Vin was pretty sure, after Sarah and Adam, that Chris hadn’t planned on letting anyone worry him ever again. He guessed the other six of them had messed up that plan but good this past year or so.

“Mr. Larabee!” Petey ran in, fetching up against the edge of the table next to Chris and smiling. “Telegram, Mr. Larabee. From Kettle Springs!”

Josiah smiled too, figuring from the kid’s grin that it must be from Ezra. “Wonder how he got so far south?” He tipped the young man generously and sent him on his way.

Chris read out the telegram. “Apologies for delay of word STOP Derailment and lines down STOP took circuitous route STOP Home on Feb 17 stage STOP—“ Chris looked up at JD—“Apologies and many happy returns to Mr. Dunne STOP eps.”

“Well, thank God for that!” Buck whooped. Vin grinned. Yup. Buck weren’t as confident as he seemed the last week or so. He looked at JD, hoping to see relief on his face.

The relief was there, all right, but they could all tell he was down, too. Buck patted him on the shoulder and JD snorted in response. “I know. It’s stupid. I should be happy he’s okay—I mean, I _am_ happy he’s okay. It’s just…” He snorted again.

“So we have your party a little late,” Buck said, reeling back suddenly from the scandalized look JD gave him. “What?”

“Your birthday’s your _birthday_ , Buck.” Said with all the conviction of a man not yet twenty.

Chris caught Vin’s eye and grinned. “Don’t much matter the actual day, JD,” the gunslinger said. “Long as you spend it with the important people.”

JD tried to pep up—tried to “be a man” as Buck would say. “You’re right. We’ll just… Celebrate a few days late.” He tried to convince himself. “It’ll be fine.”

Vin tried not to laugh at the cautious words. Hell, if not celebrating right on the day struck you down, he’d be dead twenty times over, at least.

Maybe twenty-one, if Ezra was right.

Hell, Vin really had to figure out how old he was, anyway.

***

February 15th was the first warm day in a while. Not hot, but warm. Sunny. Vin grinned to himself as he walked across to the jail from his wagon in the pre-dawn light. A good day to have a birthday.

Ezra’d sent more than one telegram from Kettle Springs, and Yardley’d let Buck know he’d received his instructions from their gambler. If they were lucky, the ice-filled boxes that had arrived at the hotel restaurant yesterday would keep for a few more days, and Vin hoped this chowder—which he took to be a kind of stew—would be as tasty as it sounded. If it wasn’t, hopefully JD’d appreciate the effort, anyway.

And the cost, which was information Ezra hadn’t bothered to burden them with.

JD was sitting quietly at the desk, reading one of his dime store novels as their latest guest—Renny Collins, a farmer, drunkard, and repeat customer on public nuisance charges—snored away in the cell.

The kid was engrossed by the book, and Vin, as he often did, wondered what that’d be like. He’d listened to Josiah read aloud to the children—even Ezra did, sometimes, though he preferred his own stories to those somebody else’d already writ down—and he knew books could tell a good yarn….

He hadn’t meant to sigh, but he did, and JD snapped his head up. 

“Oh, hey, Vin!” He shoved the book in the desk, like he was embarrassed to be caught reading it. “Your shift, huh? Renny’s been pretty quiet—figure we let him go home and sleep the rest off, once he comes to.”

Vin nodded at the report. “Happy birthday, JD,” he said, watching JD duck his head.

“Aw, thanks, Vin.” His sunny expression darkened some. “Won’t feel much like a birthday without a party, though.”

“You didn’t have a party last year,” Vin pointed out. They’d all been new-formed back then, just coming together.

“Ma wasn’t long gone then.… And I didn’t really know nobody last year,” JD replied. “This year…”

“This year you have a drink with us in the saloon, maybe have dinner with Casey—“

“Casey ain’t—“ JD broke in quickly, blushing something fierce.

“—point is, JD,” Vin rode over him. “You get to celebrate it with your friends. Just as soon as Ezra gets here.”

JD nodded. “Yeah, I guess.” He looked up, a kid again, instead the man of twenty that he’d become today. “Do I get my presents today?”

Vin ushered him out the door and officially started his shift watching their prisoner sleep. “Who said we all got you presents? Now go on—get over to the hotel and get yourself something to eat.”

JD smiled, knowing they’d’ve got him _something_ , and headed out. Vin thought of the present he’d completed just last night. He hadn’t expected JD to be so hard to gift, but the kid read books, shot guns, and rode horses. Vin didn’t know the first thing about buying books and the kid had a nice set of guns already, and a horse besides. Vin was just hoping that the bridle he’d been working on would be a good replacement to JD’s worn one.

He’d have to track Buck down later to find out when they were meeting and whether they were giving the kid his presents today or once Ezra got back. Standish’d better not be too late, though, if they was going to wait. Vin was getting to really enjoy seeing what everybody got each other on their birthdays.

Now he just had to set his own special day up. He reminded himself to find Chris today and finally get that dealt with, wondering to himself why he kept putting it off.

 

Vin finally tracked down Buck as the sun was heading on toward evening—seemed the big man had been out and about, though no one quite knew where. He met Vin’s question with a secretive smile and an instruction to be at the hotel restaurant at 6:00.

“Go ‘head and bring what you got tonight,” he said. “I know we said we was going to wait ‘til the 17th, but I figure the kid needs _some_ fun on his birthday. After all,” he stated, sounding as earnest as JD, “your birthday is your _birthday_!”

Vin laughed along with him and headed off to the bath house. He’d pick up his present on the way to dinner.

***

Vin was amused to see that he wasn’t the only one to wash and dress for dinner—if dressing for dinner meant he put on his other pair of pants and brushed down his coat good before coming in. Josiah was done up nice, and Nathan, too. Chris was wearing a crisp white shirt and black pants.

“Gonna ruin your reputation there, my friend,” Buck teased him on his color choice, but he was all proper, too. He settled into a chair that faced the door, so he’d be able to see JD come in before the rest of them. At Buck’s signal, the five of ‘em clapped and cheered as JD walked in, and the whole room seemed to share their mirth as the twenty year old blushed. Well, nearly the whole room—Conklin kind of growled and left. Just made the room a little nicer, is all.

“Guys!” JD protested, though Vin could see it weren’t a serious objection. “Come on!” He dropped into the empty chair beside Buck and grinned all over.

Buck put a hand to his chest, as if shocked the kid would have a problem with it. “JD! Your birthday is—“

“—your _birthday_!” they all finished, cracking themselves up all over again.

Yardley himself brought out six bowls on a tray, and Vin looked at the soup and then at Buck as the bowls were set out in front of each of them. “Thought we was waiting for Ezra?”

JD looked at both of them in confusion, then gasped as he looked at the thick soup before him. “Clam chowder?” He looked back up at Buck. “How’d you get clam chowder all the way out here?”

Buck shrugged with a smile, answering both of their questions at once. “Ezra ‘procured’ the clams and got Yardley the recipe from somewheres. He didn’t want to risk the clams going bad, since he’ll be so late. Asked us to enjoy it for him.”

And they did. It wasn’t the stew Vin was expecting, but it was creamy and full up with potatoes and clams—which were sort of meaty like shrimp but didn’t taste like ‘em at all. JD was in heaven with it, and Vin wished Ezra could’ve seen how much the effort was appreciated.

They had steak after, of course, and pie, and dinner was full of their usual camaraderie. Buck looked up and out the window a couple of times during the meal, right at the parts of the conversation where Ezra’d normally say something clever. It wasn’t like the seven of them met for dinner every day, but birthdays were fast becoming a group celebration, and they all seemed to feel the lack of their friend.

Once they’d all finished, Josiah placed a glass of whiskey in front of JD to go with the glasses the rest of them hadn’t drunk yet. “To John Dunne,” he said quietly. “May your wisdom exceed your years, and your years exceed your dreams.”

JD grinned and sipped at the whiskey, grimacing at the taste. Buck smacked him on the back and handed over the mug of milk they had waiting for him. “You’re a grown man now, JD,” he told him sternly. “Best learn how to hold your liquor.”

“I can hold it,” JD told him, defensive as a kid. Josiah, sitting across from him, broke out in a broad grin, and after a nudge to his arm, Nathan beside him followed suit. “It just tastes horrible!”

“Perhaps because Mr. Wilmington has the worst taste in liquor that it has ever been my misfortune to witness.”

The rest of them whipped around toward the kitchens, seeing what Josiah must’ve seen first. Ezra stood there, looking about half done in but happy to be home. For once, he looked the least proper of all of them, his plain brown riding jacket and heavy black traveling pants showing signs of having two days worth of hard riding smacked out of them at the last minute.

“It’s about time you showed up, Ezra,” Buck scolded him, jumping up to grab another chair and shoving at the rest of them to make room for it at the table. “Thought I was gonna have to figure out how to put off the gift giving for you.”

Ezra all but fell into the chair on the other side of Buck from JD and grinned as he tossed the young man a package. “Then it appears I get to be the first to wish you many happy returns, Mr. Dunne.”

JD was fit to burst. “I thought you wasn’t coming until the 17th!” he said, holding the package but ignoring it in favor of the better present. “How’d you get here so fast?”

“On the back of a nag the likes of which I hope never to ride again, JD,” Ezra said, nodding at Milly Parsons as she brought him a bowl of the chowder and a glass of whiskey to go with the rest of them. “I pray you’ve taken good care of my own reliable Chaucer, as I vow this moment never to ride another horse but him if I can prevent it. ‘Marigold’ was wonderfully fleet of foot, but had the most annoying habit of biting the hand that led her.”

“Well hell, Ezra, Chaucer bites everyone!” Buck pointed out.

Ezra sipped his whiskey thankfully. “Chaucer bites you, Mr. Wilmington,” he corrected. “He bites Josiah. He occasionally attempts to bite Vin. He does not bite me.”

“Doesn’t bite me, either,” Chris pointed out with a grin.

“Good lord, Mr. Larabee,” Ezra exclaimed, finishing his whiskey and nodding at Josiah to pour him another. “Not even Buck’s great brute would be foolhardy enough to take a nip at you.”

Vin chuckled. Damn. Was good to have Ezra back. He looked at Buck shrewdly. “This all a set up, then?”

Buck shrugged. “I might’ve got a message from Petey saying Ezra was planning on renting a horse to try to get here tonight,” he allowed.

“Ain’t never seen you keep a secret that well before, Buck,” Chris said, clearly impressed.

Buck ruffled JD’s hair and said nothing.

Ezra took a spoonful of his chowder and hummed. “I believe my cousin Denis has outdone himself.” He looked up at JD and took another spoonful. “Denis has a tavern in Boston and provided me with the recipe, along with a source for the clams far south enough to arrive here intact. I do hope it meets with your approval, JD.”

“It was great, Ezra, thanks,” JD said, looking a little embarrassed at how much it touched him. “Made me think of home, all right.”

“Well, for that, you may thank Buck, then,” Ezra told him. “It was his idea that you might like something from home.”

Buck smirked, but seemed pretty proud of himself.

Ezra rolled his eyes at the display and said, “I believe there are still presents to be had.” Like he was hoping they’d all forget about the damn chowder already.

JD jumped a little in his seat, like a kid at Christmas, and they all laughed. He tore the paper off of the package and came up with a dime store novel. He looked at the cover and his face fell slightly. “Bat Masterson. Gosh, thanks, Ezra, but I already read this one.”

Ezra didn’t seem to care. “Open the cover,” he mumbled around the last of his chowder, waving his spoon at him.

JD did, and read what was there. “ ’Happy birthday, John Dunne. This is all lies—I don’t believe yours, either.’ ” JD looked at the gambler in shock. “ ’Signed, Bat Masterson’.”

“That can’t be real,” Nathan put in, grabbing the paperback away and looking at the writing there. “How could you ever have—“

“As I am sure Mr. Dunne is aware, Bat’s family lives in Dodge City—“

“A fair pace from Kansas City,” Chris felt he needed to mention.

“Indeed, but the gambling isn’t much to speak of in Dodge,” Ezra pointed out. “And Mr. Masterson does love to gamble.” He grinned at the shock on all their faces. Damn, Ezra was always full of surprises. “Bat is a distant acquaintance, and a frequent guest at the inn my cousin Seamus runs.” Good lord, how many cousins did the man have, anyway? “It was pure happenstance that he was there while I was escorting Mother.” His eyes darkened for a moment, but cleared so quickly, Vin was pretty sure he and Chris were the only ones to see it. Or to care, for that matter.

“He and I got caught up on our lives over a prolonged game of five-card stud, and realized that the inestimable Jock Steele had immortalized us both in equally inaccurate fashion.” He grinned over at JD. “He was interested to learn exactly what you all were actually like.”

“Oh Lord, Ezra,” Nathan grumbled. “What did you tell him?”

Ezra pegged his friend with a candid look of respect that Vin wasn’t surprised to see, but Nathan clearly was. “Only the truth, Mr. Jackson. That you are some of the finest men I’ve ever had the pleasure to work with.” He flushed slightly—maybe he'd been too tired to stop himself saying that—then put his spoon down and signaled to Milly for his next course.

“Now, am I to believe that I am the only one of us to procure a gift for our illustrious sheriff?”

Did a damn good job of covering for himself, Vin thought, as they were quickly redirected away from that all-too telling admission.

Buck obliged the change of topic by presenting JD with a new fishing pole—“Figured you could maybe catch something with this one, since you don’t seem to be able to do a damn thing with the one you got.” 

Chris and Vin, meanwhile, had obviously had similar ideas. Chris’s gift was a gunbelt, which was almost a match to the secondhand belt JD’d been wearing since he got here, but new and sturdy. Chris’d nodded at the kid’s appreciation. “Good guns deserve a good set of holsters. I don’t need yours falling apart on me when I need you to back me up.”

JD seemed pretty impressed with that gift, so Vin figured his own bridle would just be nodded at, but JD took it in his hands and ran it through his fingers a few times, seeming to like the feel of it. Mammedaty, one of the elders of the Kiowa tribe Vin had lived with while in his teens, had showed him the right way of treating buffalo hide, making it strong and durable but soft, too, perfect for gentling the holding of a mustang. Worked as well for cowhide and a broke-in mount like JD’s. The braid pattern he’d learned from his Kiowa mother, Soft Owl.

“You made this yourself?” JD asked, shocked. It should’ve sounded like he didn’t believe Vin was up to it, but instead, it just sounded awed enough that Vin felt himself blushing.

“Saw yours was fraying some,” he offered, ignoring the amused looks Buck and Josiah was giving him by staring at the tabletop.

JD’s soft, “Thank you, Vin,” had him looking up, though. Was good to know it was appreciated.

Vin still breathed a sigh of relief, though, as they moved on to the next present. Figured maybe he knew what Ezra felt like.

JD held up another book, this one from Josiah. “The Illiad,” JD read, “translated by William Cullen Bryant.” He looked up. “This is the Trojan War one?” Vin had heard enough of the discussions around Ezra’s gift to Josiah last fall to know that the Trojan War had something to do with that book too, and that there was a book that came a long time before, by a different writer. He figured this was it. 

Nathan’s gift was a throwing knife, which Vin thought was a little strange, seeing as how JD hadn’t ever showed any interest in them. JD didn’t seem to think so at all, though, so maybe Vin just hadn’t been paying attention.

“It’s a small one, now,” Nathan said. “But that’s a good start.”

“You teach me how to throw it?” JD asked, grinning as Nathan agreed to. It was like Billy Travis asking Chris to teach him how to fish, and Vin grinned at the man who was still very much a kid.

And thank God for that.

Weren’t that much later that Buck clapped JD on the back. “Well, kid, looks like we got a full seven here, so maybe we’d better get on to the party part of this party.”

JD looked at him with a mix of dread and wonder that had them all laughing. “Do I want to know?”

Buck grinned enough to make the kid pale. “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

Ezra was still finishing his dinner, but waved them all on. “I shall join you soon, Mr. Dunne,” he assured them. “At the moment, I find myself quite famished.”

Vin figured so. Exhausted, too, probably.

JD rose along with Buck and the others. “Ezra…” He hesitated, knowing he’d probably get Ezra’s usual line if he said anything. Being JD, though, he was too damn honest and earnest not to say it. “Thanks. I mean, for getting here. I know you didn’t have to, after being delayed and all, but…”

Maybe he was just too tired to pull his usual crap, or maybe it was because it was JD, but Ezra just smiled. “Happy Birthday, JD,” he murmured quietly, and returned his attention to his meal. Looked to Vin like Ezra was hoping they’d all just forget he was there.

Vin hung back a minute as the rest of them wandered out, turning to find Chris still in his seat.

“Eat much on the way in?” Chris asked Ezra, grinning at the plate the gambler was all but licking clean.

Ezra snorted. “You are, I expect, aware how much I abhor trail rations, Mr. Larabee?”

“Think you might’ve mentioned it once or twice,” Chris allowed. He rose finally, draining the last of his whiskey. “Good you’re back, Ezra.” Ezra looked up in surprise, and so did Vin. But neither man said a word as Chris ambled out and across the street to the saloon.

Vin looked down at Ezra, who looked like he was barely staying awake to eat. He could say a lot of things right now. Could tell Ezra how much it meant to JD that he was here. Tell him they’d worried about him when they didn’t hear word after the derailment. Tell him they was all glad he was back.

Instead he just asked the question Ezra probably expected. “Your ma get off okay?”

Ezra nodded, catching Milly’s eye again and motioning her over. “She’s gone to New Orleans, to recuperate from all the excitement.” He avoided the real question, which meant there was a story there. Probably never hear it, though, knowing Ezra.

“Something more I can get you, Mr. Standish?” Milly asked sweetly, batting her eyes.

“If there happens to be any more of that exquisite chowder Mr. Yardley did such a wonderful job with, I’d be much obliged,” Ezra replied, just on the right side of his own self-imposed line about flirting. Vin couldn’t understand it, but Ezra just didn’t flirt. Weren’t shy, that was for damn sure, but he never seemed to go looking for it like Buck did.

Milly blushed anyway. “I’ll see what I can do for you, Mr. Standish,” she assured him, rushing to the kitchen.

Ezra looked up at Vin, a little surprised to find him still there. “Was there something else, Mr. Tanner?”

Vin grinned ruefully and shook his head. Chris was right: they never would understand that damn gambler.

“Don’t fall asleep in your soup,” Vin warned, slipping his hat on his head and going for the door.

Never understand him, but they could sure be happy to have him around sometimes.

***

Ezra fell asleep in his chair at the party, causing Buck no end of amusement, and making the party that much more enjoyable when Buck woke him up and had Miss Caroline hustle him off to his room like a little boy stayed too long at his parents’ party. In the wee hours, Vin and Chris followed JD and Buck out, laughing as the kid juggled his load of presents, heading for the boarding house. Chris followed Vin as he headed to his wagon.

“How come you never made me a bridle,” Chris teased, knocking him with his elbow.

“You’re the one who wouldn’t fess up to his birthday,” Vin reminded him.

“Speaking of….” Chris offered. “Almanac says June 25th.”

Vin took a deep breath. “Good as any other day, I guess.”

Chris nodded his satisfaction. “I’ll make sure it gets around.”

Now he’d said it, Vin wasn’t sure. “Don’t seem right,” he said quietly. “I mean, maybe JD ain’t wrong after all. Your birthday’s your birthday. Feels like I’m lying.”

“You ain’t lying,” Chris assured him. “Ain’t your fault—and you’re not the only person doesn’t have a clue when he was born.”

“Suppose so.”

“Besides,” Chris said, his grin a white glow in the night, “Don’t you want to know what everyone’s going to get you?”

Vin smiled and shooed Chris off, climbing up the back of his wagon. He pulled off his gunbelt and stowed his gear and just sat for a minute. Down by Digger Dan’s, he could hear a bunch of the girls singing happy birthday off key—Buck’s doing, no doubt—and chuckled as he thought of the blush JD must have on him.

Wasn’t lying, he reminded himself, almost looking forward to summer.

It just was.

***

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I am totally embracing the gross anachronism that is this whole thing with Bat Masterson. JD remarks to Buck that Bat Masterson wore a bowler. Except that Bat Masterson didn’t become an Old West legend until the 1880s, and I choose to set the show in the years of 1877-1878. It still makes sense to set it in that time period--too late and Nathan's just too young to have been in the war (and so is Ezra, who has to be in the war because I say so)--but it means Bat Masterson is not terribly interesting right then. Unless you know who Wyatt Earp is going to become.
> 
>  **ETA:** So, there's a big problem here. I was watching Love and Honor in preparation for the next story in the series, and lo and behold, Josiah introduces JD to _The Iliad_ in that episode. For the first time. Three episodes after this one is set *facepalm*. I am undecided as yet as to whether to rewrite Josiah's gift or fall back on the "fanfic doesn't necessarily follow canon" excuse. For now, please be assured that I'm aware I have a canon fault here. Mea culpa.


End file.
